


wishing for that feeling,

by fuckingkinney



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, bev is also in it but not Enough for me to tag her u know ????, but if there's anything u think should be tagged pls just let me know !!!, i can't think of any tags as it is 3am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24432412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckingkinney/pseuds/fuckingkinney
Summary: The light feeling had bloomed in his chest only a handful of times in his life; shaking hands with his boss, the first time they’d met, with his sharp jaw and thick glasses. The roommate he’d had in college, who was more of a whirlwind than anyone Eddie had memory of in his life. That smoked pot and grinned at him on the other side of the room as though it was just their secret.Myra never gave him that light feeling.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 65





	wishing for that feeling,

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a fan art by [madsotc](https://twitter.com/madsotc/status/1265800098790989825) on twitter!

It wasn’t a loving marriage. The one he had with Myra. It hadn’t been born, moulded, created, out of love. It had been a necessity. An overwhelming need to know that he wouldn’t die alone. It was morbid, he knew, not something people in their mid-twenties should think about in such detail, but he was a planner. Had to be. A need that had only intensified as time ticked, ticked, ticked past and thirty had loomed and he’d met her. A nurse. Someone who organised his medication for him in the order that he used them in each morning, not alphabetically, and knew his medical history almost as in-depth as he did. 

It should have been a red flag, he realises in retrospect when he’s relining his medications in the bathroom alphabetically and Richie is quirking the corner of his mouth into a sad smile. He just hadn’t cared to see it that colour. Yellow, at best. People and their inclinations weren’t an easy thing to navigate. People didn’t come with instructions and codes of conduct. With manuals that he could read back to front and over again. They weren’t easy to understand the same way that buildings were; nothing about Myra had ever sent bells ringing in his head the way that walking into a construction site that he knew wasn’t working up to code did. That, he understood. The risks in businesses, in health and safety. In how easily it was to break a bone and let it heal again. 

People were difficult. Always had been. 

Myra had been nice. She’d been simple - not a challenge. Not something that left an itch under his skin like a distant memory. Something he couldn’t quite understand. When Sonia had met her, she hadn’t scowled the way she did at all of Eddie’s other life decisions. Had questioned, again and again, if he really needed to move out for a woman. That they weren’t married, so what was the rush?

So, he’d married her. It’d been fast. A shotgun wedding without the pregnancy. Eddie wanting to get it over and done with as fast as possible. Sonia had cried. Out of happiness or loss, Eddie didn’t know. Didn’t care at the time with the weight of all his decisions bearing down on him. The bells in his head ringing louder and louder as he looked in Myra’s eyes and tried to imagine himself happy. Truly happy. The light feeling that had bloomed in his chest only a handful of times in his life; shaking hands with his boss, the first time they’d met, with his sharp jaw and thick glasses. The roommate he’d had in college, who was more of a whirlwind than anyone Eddie had memory of in his life. That smoked pot and grinned at him on the other side of the room as though it was just their secret. 

Myra never gave him that light feeling. 

* * *

It’s getting back into the routine of work. Of analysing. Assessing. It’s boring, he knows, but it’s something that he finds interesting. Didn’t get into medical school because his mother had been hysterical at the thought of it after finding his application, so he’d applied his knowledge of germs and health codes to the next best thing... in his opinion, anyway. Any attempt to actually explain his job to Richie inevitably ended in the other pretending to fall asleep, and it’d be a lie to say that he was as deeply offended as he’d been the first time it happened. 

He still needed the routine, though. After over a month of leaving, going through a divorce and moving into Richie’s spare bedroom, Eddie had been going out of his mind. There was only so many times he could clean the bathroom (and the first time had taken a long fucking time, which he told Richie every time he went for a shower) before starting to lose his sanity. So, he’d gone back to work.

The transfer was easier than he’d expected it to be, even with his record of working as many days as physically possible. Including holidays. That was how he’d managed to talk himself into so many days off as he made the change. 

He’s not entirely surprised to hear the sound of keys clicking on Richie’s laptop. Fast, an indication that he’s come up with something. Eddie’s sure he’ll hear it later when he’s come, and it’d be a lie to pretend he minded. That he was anything but a captive audience when Richie workshopped his jokes for him while Eddie made dinner, then again when he watched Richie wash up afterwards. 

“Mornin’,” he hums, voice still thick with sleep. Not used to being up this early and actually needing to go out and work. Too used to rising slowly, unsure of Richie would be awake and watching cartoons like they were still teenagers, or if he’d still be fast asleep in his room across the hall. 

Eddie busies himself, not surprised as the lack of response. Richie’s earphones are tucked in, and if he were to concentrate hard enough, he’d probably be able to figure out what the other was listening to. He doesn’t have time to, not now. Pours himself a coffee and shoves his briefcase under his arm as he tries to juggle the pair around burning his tongue and also getting his shoes on. It’s not the most elegant of arrangements, and suddenly Eddie’s grateful to not have Richie’s attention focused on him for once. 

He touches Richie’s shoulder, the first actual sign of contact. Fingers curling over the soft fabric of his t-shirt, a sudden sense of longing to be able to stay curling tight in his gut in a way he’s never experienced before. Richie jumps, fumbling to take his airpods out before he turns, expression softening before brightening into a grin. 

“Eds, sorry!” he’s mumbling, long limbs uncoordinated as they always are as he turns to face him, nearly knocking over his coffee in the process. Eddie barely restrains a wince. 

“You off to work?” He asks, finally looking at him, eyebrows pinching together in a way Eddie still hasn’t come to understand the meaning behind. 

With a yawn smothered behind the hand not attached to Richie’s shoulder, he hums. “Not all of us can tell shitty jokes and get paid too much,” he responds, something building in his chest as Richie’s grin only widens at the insult. As though Eddie had said something incredibly funny at his own expense instead. 

“Yeah, yeah— those _shitty jokes_ paid the bills, Eds,” he gripes, although he doesn’t look displeased. Not even remotely. 

Instead, he’s looking at him and Eddie cannot bring himself to pull away if he tried. At the back of his mind, he knows he needs to hurry up or he’ll be late. He fucking hates being late. 

Distantly, he’s aware that Richie’s still talking. Gesturing as he does whenever he’s excited about something. Hair a mess, as though he’d been awake only minutes rather than a few hours. 

“Anyway,” he’s concluding and Eddie wonders if he missed a joke, a story. Something aches in his chest. “Have a good day at work, man.” 

There’s something too earnest on his face that Eddie can’t stop himself. Nothing registers about it being wrong, or that it’s something he shouldn’t do. He just does it. 

Tired, coffee gripped in his hand, Eddie leans down before he can think twice. He kisses him, a yawn building behind his teeth, soft and slow. With more affection than he’s ever shown anyone. 

The light feeling in his chest blooms. 

Eddie realises what he’s done. 

He pulls away with a start, face hot. He can’t even begin to imagine how red he is. Only aware of how flushed Richie is, now he’s looking at him. The way his eyes open a delayed moment after Eddie pulls away. The way his lips are still parted. 

“Uh—” One of them begins to say, and Eddie doesn’t know who. Instead, he grabs his bag and flees like the coward he’s always been. 

* * *

His marriage with Myra was never one that had been affectionate. Sure, they had sex - but it was rare. Myra preferred it with the lights off, and so did he. There was never any real passion, no heat between them. It was something that happened because it felt like it was obligated. Because Myra had heard other nurses gossiping about something and so she wanted to try that, too. Wanted her and her _Eddie Bear_ to be as loving with each other as people were with their spouses. 

It was a chore. That was just how Eddie had felt about sex, didn’t realise that there was something else to it. That there could be something else with it. Something more. Something exciting. 

He didn’t realise that he was going to be sat in his office, knuckles white, his coffee cold from where he hasn’t touched it since leaving the apartment. He’s wide awake, though. Heart hammering in his chest. 

_He kissed Richie._

He’d kissed Richie. 

He hadn’t even thought twice about it - had wanted and allowed himself to take it. Hadn’t stuck around afterwards to see what the other man’s reaction was. Hadn’t wanted to see the disgust, the shame, the irritation. He knew Richie was gay -- fuck, the entire fucking world knew that now after his ‘come out’ special when trying to explain why he’d disappeared off the face of the fucking Earth for too long.

Apparently it was easier to do that than admit that he’d been at Eddie’s beside, because they didn’t know if he’d survive after a claw through his chest. The entire Space Alien Thing probably wouldn’t have gone down too well. Eddie can’t say he blames him, really. 

That doesn’t stop him from being distracted. All he can think about is Richie. The feel of his lips against his own. The idea of pushing his fingers into his hair, pressing himself into the other’s space so that he can throw a leg over his hips. Sit in his lap and----

He groans before he can stop himself, presses his elbows onto the desk in front of him and rubs the palms of his hands against his eyes so hard that he sees spots. He doesn’t know what to do. Doesn’t know what the best course of action is here. 

He’s almost tempted to start googling what it means if you kiss your best friend without meaning to. 

Only, he’d meant to, a voice at the back of his head tells him. He’d wanted to. He’s always wanted to.

He presses his hands against his eyes harder, inhales through flared nostrils. 

_He wanted to kiss Richie._

* * *

He stays at work late because he can’t face him. Can’t face what he did. He has enough money to move out, but the area is expensive and he doesn’t think he’d be able to find an apartment that fast, let alone something that he _really_ wants to live in… Richie’s going to make him leave, because he crossed boundaries and that isn’t something that friends do. They respect each other. Their space. Their lines. Their sexuality. They don’t push into those gaps that are available just because they’re able to, take advantage of that. He doesn’t want to think he took advantage of Richie, his kindness, his hospitality -- but that’s what he did, isn’t it? He didn’t _ask._ He didn’t question if it was okay. If Richie was even remotely interested in Eddie _that_ way. He didn’t stick around afterwards, either. Didn’t stay so that Richie could express what he was feeling. He was fucking selfish, why would Richie want him to stick around after all of this? How could he prove that he wouldn’t betray his trust again because-- 

His phone vibrates and it pulls him out of his thoughts so suddenly that it startles him. It’s getting dark outside, he realises as he checks the notification, sees Richie’s name bright and bold on the screen. His hands sweat. 

****

**Richie**  
u coming home soon?

Home. Their home. Eddie’s pushed his way into that too, hasn’t he? Hadn’t _asked_ before he turned up. Not really. He’d mentioned a divorce and Richie had told him he had a spare room, and so Eddie had turned up after he told Myra that he was leaving her. Left her to cry on the couch as he gathered the last of his things and closed the door behind him.

It was him, wasn’t it? He was the problem. 

He’d always been the problem.

His phone vibrates again.

****

**Richie**  
gonna order food  
u want chinese or italian?

Eddie breathes. Forces himself to breathe.

 _In, out. In, out. That’s it. It’s easy._ He’s fine. He’s okay.

 **Eddie**  
Chinese sounds good.  
Are you sure you don’t want me to pick it up?

The response is immediate.

**  
Richie  
**  
nah i can order it  
disappointed u didn’t say spaghetti tho 🥵

And, just like that, he can feel the tension ease from his shoulders. His lungs expand as he laughs. 

``

**Eddie**  
You’re the worst. 

``

He doesn’t wait for a response before he’s saving the draft he’s working on, closes his computer and heads out for the night. It can wait until tomorrow. He’s worse than useless with where his thoughts are planted.

``

* * *

``

They don’t talk about it.

``

Richie orders more food than the two of them would ever need, and gestures wildly as he explains a part of his new act. Eddie laughs until he snorts, his heart hammering away in his chest the entire time. Richie looks delighted. 

``

They don’t talk about it in the evening when things are quiet and Eddie is sprawled out on what has unofficially been dubbed ‘his’ side of the couch. Feet brushing against Richie’s knees from the angle they’re both laying in. Eddie changed out of his suit the moment he came home into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt that’s never fit, too big, hangs off him. It wasn’t as difficult as he thought to adjust to the heat, has always enjoyed it more than the rain and snow in New York. He doesn’t know how _Richie_ handles it; the man always seems too warm, sweats enough let alone when adding humidity or stage lights. Eddie doesn’t know how he stands it. He guesses he’s just used to it. 

``

They watch TV and they don’t talk about it. Eddie keeps waiting with baited breath for Richie to just say something every time his lips part. It’s usually a quip about the episode of _Modern Family_ that they’re watching - because Richie only has three modes of television that he religiously watches: trashy reality shows, sit-coms, and cartoons. 

``

Eddie doesn’t mention it. Out of shame? Out of embarrassment? He doesn’t really know. He just doesn’t mention it.

``

It’s all he can think about.

``

When Richie yawns, drags a hand back through his hair and makes it stand up at all different directions, Eddie wants to kiss him again. When Richie talks at the television as though they could hear, he wants to kiss him. _He wants to kiss him again._

``

“I think I’m gonna crash,” Richie announces sometime later and Eddie doesn’t even know how long he’s been staring. Just knows that Richie is looking back at him with an unreadable expression on his face. A light dancing in his eyes from the television.

``

“Oh,” Eddie answers, as though unaware of how long it is. He doesn’t know the actual time, admittedly, but it was late when he got home and… and he’s been _staring._

``

“Yeah,” he concludes dumbly and watches as Richie’s lips quirk, amusement blooming immediately. 

``

Maybe because he’s feeling nice, or because he genuinely is tired, Richie doesn’t comment on it. Stretches with a noise between a groan and a yawn that has sparks shooting down his spine, Eddie watching him again as he gets up.

``

“ _Yeah,_ ” Maybe Eddie hadn’t gotten away with that as much as he’d liked to believe. 

``

Richie stands there for a moment like he wants to say something. His head tilted to the side, his glasses dangerously near the edge of his nose. They’re smudged on the left frame, Eddie realises as he looks back up at him. Hasn’t dared move again. 

``

“Night, Eds.”

``

Richie leaves him there, then. Alone with only the television for company.

``

“That’s not my name,” Eddie responds, delayed. 

``

It’s pointless, he realises, but doesn’t have the heart to stop himself. Richie’s already gone. 

``

His heart hammers in his chest so loud he thinks the other may hear it through the walls. Eddie finally goes to bed an hour later, lingering just a bit longer than usual in the space in the hallway between their two doors. He doesn’t hear Richie snoring through his door, but he doesn’t knock either. 

``

He climbs in bed and pointedly doesn’t think about it all. 

``

``

* * *

``

``

It’s just a thing they don’t talk about. That’s what Eddie’s settled on. Richie knew it was an accident, that he had been half asleep and not fully coherent. It was a mistake, neither of them needed to dwell on it any more than that. 

``

Eddie was making peace with it. It was better this way, wasn’t it? Not having to worry about find somewhere else to live. Not having to worry about disrupting both of their lives, ruining their friendship, because of a foolish act that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from doing. 

``

Richie, clearly, was not holding it against him, and Eddie was relieved. More than relieved. He didn’t need to dwell on it anymore, as much as he did. Alone. Sometimes it was all that he could think about. 

``

It’d only been a few days, though. It would pass. He’d find something else to focus on - would be able to _actually_ focus on his work. On the fact he needed to have his draft finished in the next week, otherwise his new boss would have his neck and Eddie wouldn’t exactly blame her considering he’d been switched on the promise that, yes, he did work stupidly long hours, including holidays and weekends, and yes, he did submit everything faster than needed to. He’d just wanted to stay out of the house. Wanted to take on every little job that he could. It paid better, and he always had the excuse of work to Myra when she asked what had him staying longer than he ought to.

``

_They work you too hard, Eddie Bear,_ she’d tell him, and Eddie would smile, numb on the inside, and change into his pyjamas before climbing into bed without much of a complaint either way. 

``

It was his way of life until this point. Eddie couldn’t find himself wanting to jump back into it again as willingly as he had initially. It was different now… and maybe, that was for the better.

``

His thoughts are clouding his head as he waits for the cow-shaped egg timer Richie had somehow had in his cupboards when Eddie moved in to go off. It was ugly, there was no denying that, but it worked as well as a standard one, and he needed to know when his chicken would go off. If he overcooked it, it’d be dry and what was the point of that? He wanted to _enjoy_ food now that he had the option of eating what he actually wanted to. 

``

A long list of figuring out what he did and didn’t like. What he was actually allergic to, and what had been a lie disguised as concern by his mother and then following from Myra after she and Sonia had one of their first _weekly chats_ before her death. 

``

“My Uber’s gonna be here in a sec,” Richie announces himself as he all but stumbles out of his room, trying to put one of his shoes on. The phone in his hand preventing that, but Eddie doesn’t feel the need to point out the obvious.

``

“You got everything?” Eddie asks, an attempt to be helpful. 

``

Walks forward, one, two, three steps before he’s lingering over the line between hallway and kitchen. Adjusting the collar on Richie’s blazer with a frown on his lips. Why he wears it, Eddie doesn’t know. More so when he insists on wearing graphic t-shirts underneath it. 

``

Today’s incredible selection features Oscar the Grouch from the Muppets and Eddie doesn’t want to see what the writing on it says. 

``

Only he really, _really_ does. 

``

It’s a thought forgotten as Richie shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, pushes his glasses up his nose with a grin on his face. He looks nervous. 

``

“Yeah-- yeah, ‘m good, Eds,”

``

Eddie’s hands fall after a moment and he can hear the _tick, tick, tick_ of the egg timer from behind him. They both stare at each other for a long moment.

``

“You sure you don’t wanna come?”

``

“It’s not-- I want to, Rich, but I… really need to finish this assessment, I’m sorry,” The question catches him off guard, admittedly. 

``

Eddie had seen Richie’s set the other night. He was workshopping his new set to smaller venues; to test the waters before some fucker with too much power at _Netflix_ decides if he’s worth the risk and if he’s actually even funny anymore. Eddie hates it. Richie seems to thrive on the pressure, somehow. Not even he can deny that some of the jokes were good. 

``

Better than any of the old shit he did by a long shot.

``

“I told you that you should quit,” Richie responds without hesitation, and something flips in Eddie’s stomach.

``

“Fuck off,” comes the response before Eddie can think twice.

``

The grin on Richie’s face only widens. Eyes brightening behind his glasses. 

``

The car horn outside startles them both and Eddie’s flinching, pulling back half a step before he can stop himself. Richie doesn’t move. His fingers twitch at his side and he looks like he wants to say something, but silence thickens.

``

“Go on,” Eddie starts, and he takes the step closer again. As if Richie needs the encouragement. “Go… _Break a leg,_ or whatever the fuck it is they say now. You’re gonna be great, Richie. Don’t ruin it by being late.”

``

Richie takes a step towards the door and pauses. Looks like he second guesses himself before taking a step back again.

``

It catches him entirely off guard when Richie leans into his space and kisses him. A hand on the side of his face, the press of his thumb against his jaw. Eddie thinks he makes a noise, but he can’t be sure with the sudden need that flushes through him. Teeth scrape across his lower lip and Eddie’s sure he makes a noise that time.

``

He doesn’t even have time to grip a hold of his jacket, his hair, something, before Richie’s pulling away. A pleased smile on his face.

``

“Don’t wait up for me.”

``

Richie’s leaving without another word and Eddie can only stare after him, fingers curled in the air that had been between them. Lips parted. Face redder than he suspects it’s ever been. 

``

He stands there until the egg timer goes off. 

``

``

* * *

``

``

Surprisingly, he’d been able to get his food out of the oven before it became dry. Barely. Too distracted with both the blood rushing to his lower body and the realisation that _Richie kissed him._ Richie had kissed him. 

``

What the fuck?

``

He’s half bent over the counter, food only half eaten on his plate. His mind running a hundred miles an hour. There’s no point texting Richie - he’ll be on stage now. Only a third of the way through his set, if all goes according to plan. Eddie doesn’t expect him back for… hours. Unfortunately, he can’t wait that long to talk to _someone_ about it.

``

Instead of sense, he pulls up one of the many group chats between various members of the Losers. He clicks on the one between himself, Bev and Ben. It’d just been easier to make, in the end. 

``

Wherever Bev was, Ben wasn’t far behind, and Bev shared _everything_ with Ben anyway so he may as well tell them both and get it over with rather than having information relayed secondhand.

``

**Eddie**  
We kissed.

``

He presses his fork into a new potato, watches the way it oozes butter and thinks about how often Myra would tell him that it was bad for his heart, his liver, his stomach. Too self indulgent. It’s as he takes a bite that his phone lights up.

``

**Ben**  
???????

``

Then again, only Bev’s name is flashing across the screen. Eddie hits the loudspeaker button and waits. Silence lingers for a minute before he hears her sigh, irritation all too clear in that one sound.

``

“Well, are you going to make me wait any longer, or what?” Her voice cuts through the air as Eddie takes a bite of his potato. Wonders if Bev will object to him eating more of his vegetables before he answered. 

``

Did he want to talk about it, or did he just want someone else to know? Someone else to share the information with, so that it was real? Not just something in his dreams? 

``

He chews, slow and careful. Nerves bundle tighter in the pit of his stomach. He almost chokes on a carrot when he hears the honk of a horn cut through the silence. He’s suddenly glad to be on his own.

``

“Are you-- Are you _driving?_ ”

``

Perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised. 

``

“I’m on my way home, I stayed late because I made up this stupid rule that I wouldn’t bring any of my work _home_ so that I didn’t get swept up in desi--” 

``

There’s a pause and Eddie can _hear_ her frown through the phone.

``

“Edward, I know what you’re doing,” 

``

With a sigh, he’s dropping his fork.

``

“We kissed.” It feels like a confession. Like something he isn’t meant to say.

``

“So? How was it? When did this happen? How? I need more details here, Eddie,”

``

She sounds distracted, probably because she’s driving and Eddie has half the mind to hang up on her. It feels too real now. 

``

“Uh-- the first time--”

``

“ _The first time?_ You’re only just telling me about this now?” Bev’s voice raises and Eddie, stubborn as ever, talks over her.

``

“ _The first time,_ it was an accident… and that sounds like a lie, but it isn’t, Bev. I kissed him before I left for work and… and that was it. Richie didn’t say anything and I didn’t say anything--”

``

“ _Why did you not say anything?!_ ” 

``

The sound of another horn cuts through and suddenly, Eddie desperately wants to be in a car with Beverly Marsh driving. Wants to see how well she’d navigate the streets of New York. There, it’s always rush hour. It’s a thought lost.

``

“Because there wasn’t anything to say, Bev. It was an accident and-- and I didn’t want to fuck things up… but then he kissed me, earlier,”

``

Richie kissed him. He breathes. Forces himself to. His lungs feel too large for his chest. It all feels like too much now that he’s talking about it aloud.

``

“Eddie? _Eddie?_ Breathe, hon-- you’re okay. We don’t have to talk about it--” 

``

This is why he called Bev. She’d understand. 

``

She always tells him to stop it when he compares their situations; Tom was abusive in every sense of the word. Myra wasn’t; subte and sly. Eddie hadn’t even considered it abusive until he laid everything out on the table and realised all of the ways she replicated his mother. It was toxic. It never worked right.

``

How did someone get over something like that? How did he have to remind himself that he was okay now? That this was Richie. He trusted Richie more than he trusted himself. 

``

“I liked it, Bev and… and that really fucking scared me. I really liked it and I think I like Richie too. I think… Maybe I always have,”

``

When they were children. When they were together and remembered each other. When he’d knock their knees together and get irritated at Richie’s insistence of always being around him. Always being the centre of attention. Eddie had liked it back then. He’d just never been able to admit it - not even to himself. 

``

“I’m just… I’m scared I’ll fuck this up, Bev. I can’t lose him. I can’t-- I can’t do this and lose him because I do something wrong,”

``

His fingers shake as he presses his fork into the last of his potatoes. Breathes in, out. Slowly, surely. Forces his chest to rise with each inhale, exhale.

``

“Oh, honey,” her voice comforts him and suddenly he wants nothing more than to be in front of her. Wants her lips against his forehead and her comfort. Wants her to tell him that it’ll be okay, and to look in her eyes and know she means it. 

``

“With Ben… With Ben, I was _terrified,_ Eddie… but sometimes, it’s worth the risk. It has to be worth the risk, because otherwise what are we living for? We killed IT. We killed IT. We can’t live in fear anymore, Eddie. We deserve more than that,”

``

_He doesn’t,_ something at the back of his mind tells him. _He doesn’t deserve more._ It’s selfish to want more. He’s still alive. He shouldn’t even be alive.

``

“But what if he--”

``

“Eddie. Listen to me: _We deserve to be happy._ ”

``

There’s a long silence.

``

“Okay.”

``

_Okay._ Maybe he does deserve something more. Something that’s his. 

``

“I’m nearly home, so… think about it and call me tomorrow, okay? I’m always here for you if you need me though, Eddie. Don’t ever forget that,”

``

It makes his heart ache.

``

“I know, I promise. Same here, too.”

``

He can hear her car coming to a stop, the crackle of her phone as it goes from her car speakers to her phone again.

``

“Just think about it. Love you, Eddie.”

``

“Love you too, Bev.”

``

Less than five minutes later, when Eddie’s finally finished his dinner and started washing up, his phone lights up again. 

``

**Ben**  
Love you bud :) 

``

* * *

``

``

When Richie had told him not to wait up, Eddie knew it meant he’d be back late. Richie liked to make it a habit of watching other people’s sets, regardless of how ‘big’ they were. It was admirable, in a way. He already had a name for himself, but he was starting from the ground and working his way back up again. Rebuilding his image. His entire career had been formed on dick jokes and references to a girlfriend that had never existed. He was shifting fanbase, developing his own routines and jokes that were actually good.

``

Not that Eddie would ever admit that. 

``

He waits up, though. 

``

Full of anxious energy and a need to do something before he falls asleep. A need to understand what it is that’s going on in between them. 

``

He wants this. He wants _this._ Richie. Him. Together. Maybe -- maybe, one day, he’ll think he deserves it.

``

Richie’s clearly not expecting him to be awake. Quiet as he unlocks the front door and then locks it behind himself, keys dropping into the bowl that Eddie had placed there a few months ago after watching Richie try and find his keys for the third time in less than two days. 

``

The televisions on quiet - more background noise than anything. He’s in a t-shirt Richie let him borrow and just never returned, entirely too big with the shoulders of it resting on his arms. The hem of the shirt past his hips, towards the middle of his thighs. It’d just been something to clean in, and now he wants to wear it all the time.

``

Even with fucking multi coloured spots covering it obscenely. 

``

Richie comes to a stop as he finds him, curled up on the couch. Their couch. He genuinely looks surprised.

``

“I didn’t think you’d be awake,” he says, as if caught in the act of something. 

``

Eddie would be a liar to say he’s not tired. 

``

“How did your show go?” he asks instead, groggy at the edges, a smile curling up the corners of his mouth. Resists the urge to beckon him in closer, no matter how much he wants to. Wants nothing more than for Richie to invade his personal space. To be close.

``

“It was good,” Richie hums as he shrugs his jacket off. As he toes his shoes off and leaves them in the middle of the floor before flopping on the couch beside him. “There was no one there to heckle me this time, so that’s always good,”

``

Eddie grins before he can stop himself.

``

“I hardly _heckled_ you. Don’t be fucking sensitive,” he’s teasing him now. Bold and brave in a way he’s never felt before. Their heads are close together and if Richie just turned that slightest bit more--

``

Richie has to look up at him though, from where he’s balanced on his elbows, half on his side, half on his back. Eddie doesn’t understand how it could be remotely comfortable, but Richie isn’t complaining and he’s not asking.

``

“You so did fucking heckle me, jackass,”

``

“What was it you said? _Your shit jokes pay the bills_ \-- fuck me for wanting to make sure they continue to,”

``

Richie laughs. Loud, long. His head thrown back and his eyes crinkled in the corners from where he closed them. There’s joy on his face. Eddie’s intoxicated. 

``

“Eds gets off a good one,” comes the quiet response, and looks at him.

``

Eddie stares back. 

``

Until, suddenly, he’s not. Until he’s leaning in and Richie’s turning his head at the right moment, pressing their lips together in the same way that they did only a few hours before. The angles different now. Eddie taking the lead and Richie letting him. A hand pressing into dark hair and Richie raising his hand until it slides up over his side. Pressing fingers up beneath his t-shirt. Grazing over the bare skin of his rib cage. 

``

Eddie feels like he’s on fire. 

``

He doesn’t want it to ever stop.

``

“Wait-- _wait--_ ”

``

He’s stopping it anyway, because he needs… he needs for this to be a mutual thing. He needs for them to be on the same wavelength. He needs Richie, but it feels like it’s a case of all or nothing. Eddie feels like he’d drown without it.

``

“I-- Richie,” he’s distracted, momentarily, at the press of lips against the underside of his jaw. “Richie, _wait,_ ”

``

He does this time. For the sake of them both. Pulls back with his glasses slightly askew and lips still parted. Eddie resists the urge to lean in again.

``

“I need this… I need this to mean something, Rich,” he murmurs, can’t look at him now he’s started talking. An embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck. An overwhelming sense of shame.

``

Richie’s fingers stroke across his side, quiet and waiting.

``

“I can’t do this in halves. It’s-- it’s all or nothing, Rich, and I know-- I know that’s a lot to spring on you. I know this is _my own_ fucking fault for even starting it--” 

``

That’s when Richie finally moves, pulls up so that they’re face to face. Looking at each other properly. 

``

“Woah-- Eds, _Eddie._ You didn’t do anything that I didn’t wanna do. I’ve wanted this for… fuck, I don’t even know how long. I wasn’t gonna force you or rush you, ‘cause I didn’t know if this was… if this was something you even wanted, and your whole divorce…”

``

He waves a hand in the air as if the gesture is meant to explain it all without words. Eddie’s glad he decided on that, admittedly. He’s quiet for a beat too long, he realises, as Richie starts rambling again.

``

“I’ve always wanted this, Eds. Even when I couldn’t even fucking _remember_ you, I wanted this. Seeing you again was like-- like being punched in the fucking face or something. It all just came rushing back and… and this isn’t just something I wanna do to fuck with you, or just to fuck you. I mean, I’d like to, or the other way but--”

``

Eddie feels dizzy. 

``

“Richie--”

``

“What can I say? I have no preference, to be honest, I’m pretty fucking happy either way and if it’s with you--” 

``

“Richie.”

``

He finally comes to a stop then. Blinks at him, once, twice. As if surprised that Eddie would interrupt him. 

``

“I’m just… I’m just saying. I want this too, Eddie. All of this. No halves. This isn’t… This isn’t casual to me. Whatever we do.”

``

“Oh.”

``

_Oh._

``

“Yeah,” Richie concludes and Eddie blinks back at him. 

``

Something soft forms on his features, a smile curling up the corners of his mouth. He pushes Richie’s hair from off his face, slow and careful. Drags his thumb down the side of his cheek, across his lower lip. He watches as Richie’s adams apple bobs. 

``

“I’m glad we’re on the same page then.”

``

When Eddie kisses him this time, he has absolutely no intention of stopping.

``

He’s never felt so light.

``

**Author's Note:**

> this got very out of hand and i had absolutely no control over that. this is unbeta'd / proof-read, so i apologize for any mistakes that you may encounter. 
> 
> i am a glutton for validation so please like and / or comment if you enjoyed it!
> 
> or feel free to yell at me on twitter : [@lgbtrashmouth](https://twitter.com/lgbtrashmouth)


End file.
